


Evanesce

by SmolbiWanCannoli



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Depression, Gen, Hermit Obi-Wan Kenobi, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Obi-Wan Kenobi Needs a Hug, Obi-Wan Kenobi is a Mess, POV Obi-Wan Kenobi, Post-Order 66, Post-Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Survivor Guilt, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Whump, can be read as platonic, someone hug my hurting baby
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-10
Updated: 2020-09-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:40:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26391328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SmolbiWanCannoli/pseuds/SmolbiWanCannoli
Summary: Only a couple of months into his exile on Tatooine, a battle-worn and brokenhearted Obi-Wan still struggles to come to terms with past events and his new life. Unable to find solace in anything, he clings to the mantra of the Jedi Code for any sliver of hope.“And you, Master. What does your heart tell you you’re meant for?”“Infinite sadness,” Obi-Wan said, even while smiling.- 'Labyrinth of Evil' by James Luceno
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi & Anakin Skywalker, Obi-Wan Kenobi/Anakin Skywalker, Qui-Gon Jinn & Obi-Wan Kenobi
Kudos: 28





	Evanesce

The emptiness was all-consuming. It was choking him. Suffocating him. Engulfing him whole.

Obi-Wan curled tighter into himself, wrapping his robes more closely around his undernourished frame. It was far from cold where he sat in his little hut on Tatooine, and yet this wretched emptiness seemed to creep into his very being and freeze him down to his very bones. Treacherous, hot tears welled up in his eyes and he scrunched his face up, clenching his eyes shut and willing them to go away. He shouldn’t weep. Shouldn't mourn. He should meditate until he achieved serenity. Until he was clear-headed and at peace with the present. After all, that was the Jedi way.

_There is no emotion, there is peace._

But did the Jedi way even matter anymore? They were virtually extinct.  
How could he ever be at peace again?  
A wave of guilt at his own thoughts rushed through him. Master Yoda would be disappointed _._

_There is no ignorance, there is knowledge._

Still, he no longer slept, no longer ate. He spent most of his days aimlessly lying down on the hard floors of his sparsely-furnished hut, staring unblinkingly at the wall. Trying to escape. Trying to soothe this dull ache spreading in his heart.

Oh, how he wished for Qui-Gon to be with him right now. He needed him; needed that tender reassurance his old Master used to provide him with almost effortlessly. Warm and wise.

_There is no passion, there is serenity._

No one cared for him anymore. No one was spared. Qui-Gon, Anakin, Satine, and every one of his friends at the Temple. All gone. They were his family, and all but Master Yoda and Anakin were dead, although the latter was as good as.

A haunting sort of remorse tormented him at the thought of his clones. If only he'd paid more attention. If only he'd noticed the signs. The nuanced discrepancies. 

He swallowed down a sob and burrowed further into his dusty robes. But try as he might, quick, heaving sobs eventually threatened to overwhelm him, weighing down on his chest and making it difficult to breathe.

Memories of Mustafar flashed in his mind’s eye, just as they often did. It never got easier, never became more bearable recalling the anger, hate, _cruelty_ in Anakin’s golden eyes as he used all his bodily strength to strike Obi-Wan down, with his lightsaber, the Force, even his bare hands.

His trembling fingers gripped onto shaggy, unkempt hair. He needed to breathe. He couldn't breathe-

_There is no chaos, there is harmony._

He had failed Anakin. Had he been a better Master, had he taught him better, _talked_ to him more, Anakin wouldn’t have turned his back against his own the way he did. Why had Qui-Gon entrusted him to train, essentially _raise_ Anakin? He had failed his Master, and he had failed that small, scared, enslaved boy from Tatooine. 

It was almost poetic for him to spend the rest of his days in exile, abandoned and forgotten. Perhaps he was not worthy of the eternal peace that came with death.

_There is no death, there is the Force._

Obi-Wan’s body shook with the intensity of his grief, weeping silently as his lungs begged for air. He wrapped his arms around his middle and rubbed at his own flanks, desperately trying to mimic the comfort of a hug.

Anakin had often held him. He knew how stubborn Obi-Wan was, the way he refused to admit he needed any contact even when he became borderline touch-starved. He’d sigh and pull Obi-Wan close, one hand casually stroking soft copper locks, the other rubbing his back firmly, yet gently. In an exasperated tone, he'd fondly remind his old Master that he was only human. That it was only natural to need comfort. Obi-Wan would stiffen at first, and then slowly relax in the younger man’s embrace despite himself. He’d cautiously hide his slightly blushing face in the crook of Anakin’s neck and clutch at the younger man's tunics with uncharacteristic intensity, afraid he might let go of him too soon. Eventually, he’d inhale deeply, and then slowly exhale, feeling the pent-up tension leave his body - if only fleetingly - and allowing himself to all but melt against his former padawan.

Gratefully, he would feel his anxieties alleviate and his racing thoughts begin to slow down.

He loved Anakin so much. His one true attachment.

_There is no emotion, there is peace._

Obi-Wan forced his breathing to return to its normal pattern and tentatively sat up against the wall. He sniffled quietly and wiped at his wet eyes with raggedy sleeves. Reaching for his lightsaber, his fingers absently stroked over the details on its hilt as he retreated back into the thoughts troubling his mind.

_There is no ignorance, there is knowledge._

A day would likely come when little Luke would have to learn about the Force, and be trained in using it as well. What if Obi-Wan repeated the same mistakes then? What if he failed that blameless child as he’d failed his father before him? What if he trained another Vader?

_There is no passion, there is serenity._

He thought back to the pink little face, innocent and unsuspecting. Pure and good. He’d need to keep him that way… to ensure that his light never got corrupted. He needed to be strong for Luke. He needed to keep him safe.

_There is no chaos, there is harmony._

An exhausted sigh escaped Obi-Wan’s lips as he placed the weapon on the ground close to him and shifted his body to lay on his back. He stared up at the roof, vaguely aware of the dull ache in his back, a consequence of the bony knobs of his spine grinding against unyielding ground.

Closing his tired eyes, Obi-Wan tried to meditate once more, mindful of his breathing and his thoughts.

_There is no de-_

Before long, he'd fallen into a short and restless sleep, plagued with corrupt nightmares and heart-wrenching memories. Just bleak echoes of a near past. No light, no warmth, no love.

Only emptiness.


End file.
